Eclipse
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: How many times can you look into the abyss before you fall in? Skew fic. [chapter seven up]
1. one

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

A/N: I found this when I was doing some spring-cleaning on my hard drive and thought I might as well post it. Hopefully I'll actually get around to finishing it. If, you know, people are still reading Profiler fiction :o)

* * *

Life doesn't promise a bed of roses or white knights

Field of emotions, I'm trapped in darkness

Why me?

Save me

To win this twisted war inside me won't justify the pain

Life doesn't promise a bed of roses

Anastacia, "Where do I belong?"

* * *

Dusky light filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting shadows across the room. The house was unnaturally quiet, filled with the heady scent of death and sex. The couple on the bed lay tangled together; arms and legs entwined, the woman's long, blonde hair fanned out over her partner's chest.

Something beeped, breaking the spell. She stirred, lifted her head and looked around, confused at first. Then she saw where she was – and who she was with – and realization washed over her. She scrambled away from him, pulling up the sheet to cover her nakedness.

Then she saw the blood: dry blood, flaked across the man's arms and chest. She looked down at her own hands and saw they were streaked with blood too.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

The sound of something ringing intruded on her thoughts. Locating the source, she picked up her cell phone and answered with a shaky, "Hello?"

"Sam! Thank God! Where are you?"

She looked around the room, her gaze resting on the bed. "Uh—"

"Sam? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Bailey. Uh . . . can I call you back?" She pushed her hair out of her face, feeling light-headed. The room suddenly seemed hotter and she sat on the edge of the bed, praying that she wouldn't pass out.

"Where are you?" Bailey repeated.

Sam didn't have the energy or the willpower to try and figure it out. She hung up, then turned the phone off so Bailey couldn't call back. She stared at her hands, afraid to turn around and face the evidence of her betrayal.

Please, God, I'm sorry. Please make this not be true!

There was movement on the bed behind her and she stiffened, unconsciously folding her arms across her stomach. As hard as she tried, she couldn't remember what had happened. Feeling suddenly nauseous, she stumbled into the bathroom.

When there was nothing left for her to throw up, she slowly straightened and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth of its own volition. The sheet was streaked with blood and Sam's blonde hair was reddish-brown in patches.

What happened? What did I do?

She let the sheet fall to the floor and stepped into the shower. The water was hotter than she normally liked it; if she noticed, she didn't care. She scrubbed at her skin until it was raw and still, she didn't feel clean. Squeezing shampoo into her cupped hand, she lathered her hair and used her fingers to comb through the knots. Her tears mixed freely with the water as bits and pieces of what had happened started to come back to her.

I'm so sorry.

She'd been on a date. Angel had set her up with a friend of hers: Joel Something-or-other. Sam couldn't remember. The only reason she'd agree to the date in the first place was because Angel had caught her in a weak moment. They'd gone for dinner and when they were getting into the car, Jack . . . Jack had shown up. He'd used chloroform. Sam had woken up in a living room she didn't recognize, and then . . .

And then . . .

Sam turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, rubbing herself dry with a towel. She didn't want to remember the rest.

The bedroom was empty. The cupboards were bare except for a bathrobe and some white negligees. Sam chose the bathrobe.

It was dark outside. Sam wondered how long she'd been here, how long she'd been asleep. She'd lost track of time and wasn't even sure what day it was. No wonder Bailey had sounded so concerned.

Shit. Bailey.

Sam picked up her cell phone, then realized she had no idea what to say to him. Hearing the bedroom door creak open behind her, she dropped the phone and whirled around.

Jack! I . . . we . . .

"Hungry, Samantha? I was just about to make dinner?"

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"You must be hungry. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

Sam shook her head; she still felt nauseous. Jack moved towards her and raised his hand. She flinched, involuntarily stepping backwards.

"You know I'd never hurt you." He sounded wounded.

Sam finally found her voice. "Your hands are dirty." She'd meant to tell him not to touch her, to stay away from her, but her mouth obviously had a will of its own.

Jack smiled fondly. "My Samantha . . . I'll go wash up."

No! she wanted to scream. _I'm not your Samantha!_

Jack went into the bathroom. Seconds later, Sam heard the shower being turned on. Deciding that she was, in fact, hungry, she ventured downstairs in search of the kitchen.

She made it as far as the living room.

Sam was used to the sight and smell of blood – in her job, she had to be. Still, she was never unaffected by it, especially if she had a personal connection to the victim.

Joel, her luckless date, was sprawled on the living room carpet.

Sam leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, overcome by images of what had happened.

A gurgling noise had woken her up . . . the sound of Joel struggling for breath. Jack had done to him what he'd had Sharon do to Coop. Sam had held his hand, telling him that everything would be okay, that an ambulance was on its way. She'd wondered if he could tell that she was lying. Jack had stood in the doorway and watched. Then he'd pulled Sam away from the dying man and kissed her.

And her body – her _traitorous_ body – had responded. She'd kissed him back with more passion than she'd kissed anyone in years. _She_ had pushed him down onto the couch. Had slipped her hands under his shirt. Had . . .

Oh God.

What had she been thinking? She had slept with _Jack_! The one person on earth who she truly despised and she had fucked him . . . next to a dead man, no less.

She slid to the ground. The worst part was that she'd _enjoyed_ it. She hated herself for that. It seemed like hours later that she felt herself being lifted. She tensed her body.

"Stop running, Samantha."

She shook her head, her eyes still closed, and felt his lips on her cheek as he tenderly kissed away her tears.

"Jack," she whispered. Instead of pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Shh. Don't cry."

She finally opened her eyes. She knew there would be no judgment from him, only acceptance. He was possibly the only person who really understood her. Though the knowledge should have frightened her, it was strangely comforting. It wasn't that surprising; he spent as much time trying to get into her head as she did trying to get into his.

Sam felt so lost. She laid her head on Jack's shoulder, too tired to fight anymore. She'd done the unthinkable and there was no going back. Was there?

Nobody can ever know. They would never understand.

Then why should you go back?

"The FBI will be here soon."

Sam nodded numbly. "You need to leave then."

He looked crestfallen. "You're not going to come with me?"

"Jack, you know I can't."

"Things have changed."

"Jack, please--"

"How long do you think you can go on working there now? It doesn't matter that they don't know what happened, you'll still be thinking about it every day. Can you still catch me, Samantha? Can you still kill me?"

"Don't make me choose between you and Chloe. Please . . ." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him. Misinterpreting his sigh, she clutched his shirt, twisting the fabric in her hands. "If you hurt her, I'll-"

"I would never hurt her."

Sam stared at him for a long time, then hung her head, her hair falling to cover her face.

TBC


	2. two

When the SWAT team burst through the front door, they found Sam huddled on the sofa. Her knees were drawn up under her chin and she stared in front of her, her eyes glazed. Bailey pushed his way through the officers and sat beside her.

"Sam?"

She tilted her head to look at him, slowly coming back to reality. "Bailey?"

She looked to him like a small, frightened animal and he put an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. He was surprised when she pulled away.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay," she said, too quickly.

"What happened?" He gestured to the body still lying on the floor.

"How did you find me?" she asked instead of answering.

"An anonymous caller gave us this address. The house is leased in the name of Samantha Anderson." He paused to let the information sink in. "Sam, what happened here?"

"Jack," she whispered.

"Did he hurt you?" Bailey's grip on her arm tightened.

"He was angry that I'd gone out with Joel. He . . . he brought us here . . . and . . ." She shook her head as tears sprang to her eyes.

Bailey stood. "Let's get you to a hospital."

"No! I'm fine. I just . . . I just want to go home. I want to see Chloe."

Bailey relented; he could deny her nothing. Still, he pressed. "You need to talk about it."

"I know! But not _now_." Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she looked up at him, and she added, "Please?"

He nodded and held out his hand. All the questions tumbling through his mind would have to wait.

* * *

Grace sat in the lab, staring at the test results. She didn't want to believe it, but she held the evidence in her hand. Bailey came to stand next to her.

"What did you want me to see?"

Grace sighed. "Sam wasn't covered in any blood when you found her and she said she hadn't been hurt. From the amount of blood in the living room, I'd say Jack killed him there. I didn't understand how his blood ended up all the way in the bedroom, but look here."

She led Bailey to a table where she had the sheet spread out. "See: these long marks look like they could be made by fingers. I couldn't get any clear prints off this but I had a hunch, so I ran another test."

"And?"

Grace paused, looking down at the offending sheet. "I found traces of semen and vaginal fluid—"

"But Sam said Jack grabbed them from a restaurant. It was their first date, they wouldn't have—"

"I ran a match. Sam didn't sleep with Joel Siebert."

Bailey slammed his fist hard down on the table. "I'll kill him. Jack's a dead man."

"Where is Sam now?"

"At home. Take the day off, Gracie. I don't think she should be alone right now."

* * *

I just want to be left alone, Sam thought. She sat at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of coffee. She hadn't slept well; the previous day's events were weighing heavily on her mind.

"Mom?"

Sam looked at Chloe, her mind still a million miles away. "Mmm?"

"I just wanted to say bye. Angel's taking me to school."

"Mmm, bye, Chlo'." She forced a smile, then noticed the look on Chloe's face. "Uh, how about we do something this afternoon? I'll pick you up from school and—"

Chloe threw her arms around Sam's neck. "I'm glad you're okay, Mom."

Sam had nothing to say to that. She kissed Chloe's cheek and waved her away.

Twenty minutes later, when Grace arrived, she was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring into her now-cold cup of coffee.

"Why aren't you at work?" she asked.

Grace emptied the cup and started making a fresh pot of coffee. "I was worried about you. Jack's never done anything like this before – I mean, not with you right there."

Sam shrugged. "I'm okay."

"I, uh, I did the autopsy." She handed Sam a cup and sat down across from her. When Sam didn't say anything, she cautiously pressed on. "You can trust me, you know."

"I know."

"And if there was something you weren't comfortable talking to Bailey about, you could always talk to me."

Sam frowned slightly, wondering where this was going. "I know."

"So, was there anything about what happened yesterday that you couldn't tell Bailey?"

Sam looked away and took a sip of coffee to hide her nervousness.

"Sam? I know what he did to you. It's okay to talk about it." Grace was sure there was some irony in that, if their roles were reversed, Sam would be saying the same thing to her.

"What do you mean, 'what he did to me'?"

Which is the greater wrong? Sam wondered. _If I confirm her suspicions, I betray Jack. If I deny them, I betray everything I_ . . . she _stands for_.

Wait . . . betray Jack? What am I thinking?

"I'm fine, Grace. Really."

Grace pursed her lips. Sam knew Grace saw right through the lie, but knew also that she wouldn't press her.

"You're going to have to speak to the Bureau's trauma counselor before Bailey lets you come back to work."

"I'm not going back to work." Sam pushed her cup away and stood up, refusing to look at Grace. She'd been thinking about quitting but hadn't realized she'd made up her mind until she'd opened her mouth.

"But . . . but what about Jack?"

Sam pretended to look through the refrigerator.

"Sam?"

"I'd really like to be alone just now. Okay, Grace?"

Grace knew when she was beaten. She walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sam to face her demons alone. Sam shut the refrigerator door and leaned her forehead against the cool metal. The firehouse was hot, too hot. Sam needed to get out. She put on a sweat suit and grabbed a cap before heading out. She waited for the agent guarding her to focus his attention elsewhere before running in the opposite direction. Her hair was hidden in the cap and when she risked looking back, the agent was still at his post. She'd gotten away undetected.

She ran.

And ran.

The other joggers ignored her for the most part. She kept her head down, pumping her arms. This wasn't an ordinary jog, this was punishment. The muscles in her legs screamed in protest and her chest burned. When she reached the park, she stopped and stretched. A young mother walked past, pushing a stroller. An old man was walking his Beagle. Everything seemed so normal and for a moment Sam let herself believe that she was just another jogger, that everything about her life was normal too.

If she took Chloe away they could begin a new life. A normal life. She wouldn't have to report to Bailey whenever she felt like leaving her house unescorted. Chloe wouldn't have to go everywhere with a bodyguard. Jack would find her, of course, but would that be so bad?

She caught herself, then sank down onto the park bench. Yes, it would be bad. He was a killer, she didn't need to remind herself of that fact. So what if she wanted to believe otherwise? She had told him not to make her choose between him and Chloe. As much as she wanted him, she was a mother first. Her needs had to come second. There was no way to compromise.

Still, the idea of her and Chloe and Jack living far away from everything here refused to just disappear from her thoughts. Would it really be that bad?

Her eye fell on the young mother again. She couldn't remember being that innocent. She wanted – no, needed – Chloe to grow up like that young mother. That wouldn't happen on the run. That wouldn't happen if she was living with the Jack-Of-All-Trades.

But it wouldn't happen here either.

* * *

Chloe chattered excitedly about her day, unaware that her mother's thoughts were only half on the conversation. Sam gazed around the restaurant, irrationally hoping for a glimpse of Jack. When she'd returned from the park, her guard had been surprised and more than a little upset that she'd slipped away without telling him. She'd told him to forget about it and had disappeared into her darkroom. If Angel hadn't reminded her of her promise to Chloe, she would have forgotten. Chloe had been thrilled when she'd shown up at school and had immediately suggested a thousand places they could go.

This little restaurant had caught Sam's eye. It was quiet and small, and had an almost European atmosphere. Chloe loved it.

"—And then she said my poem was the best out of the whole class. She told me she wants to put it in the school magazine at the end of the year."

"That's great, hon." Sam forced herself to concentrate. "What's it about?"

"Dad."

Sam felt guilt pierce her straight through the heart. She wasn't hungry anymore.

"You never said you'd written a poem about your dad."

"I write lots of stuff. You're just never home." There was no accusation in Chloe's tone. She smiled. "Angel reads it."

Sam reached across the table to take Chloe's hand. "What if I told you I was going to be home more often? I don't think I'm going to be working at the VCTF anymore."

"But I thought you helped people?"

"There are other people who can help more than I can. Besides, I want to spend more time with you." Sam couldn't tell Chloe that she was leaving because she felt like a stranger in her own life. She was too young to understand anyway.

"You promise? 'Cause what if Uncle Bailey asks for your help again?"

"I promise, Chlo'."

Chloe smiled, and scooted around the table. She hugged her mother. "Can we live in a real house then? With a garden and a pool?"

"We'll see."

TBC


	3. three

Bailey was waiting for Sam when she and Chloe returned to the firehouse. Chloe ran towards him to give him a hug.

"Uncle Bailey! Did you hear? Mom's going to stay at home now!"

Bailey nodded, his expression unreadable. "I heard. Can I speak to her alone for a sec?"

"'Kay. I've got homework anyway." Chloe ran off, leaving the two adults in an uncomfortable silence.

Sam broke it first. "How are the girls?"

"They're fine."

"Good. Umm . . . how's—"

"When did you decide you were leaving? And why didn't you tell me?" Bailey was obviously upset, but his tone was calm.

Sam shrugged. "I was going to tell you."

"When?"

She shrugged again.

"If this is about what happened, we can work through it. You don't have to quit—"

"I can't do it anymore, Bailey. This life . . . it's not what I want anymore."

"So you're just going to leave? You're going to let him win?"

Sam sighed. "That's so easy for you to say. But this isn't about you, it's about me. Let me go, okay?"

"What did he do to you? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing! Bailey, please."

"He's not going to stop. If you leave, you'll be unprotected. He could—"

Sam wrapped her arms around her chest and collapsed onto the couch. "Because I'm so well-protected as it is!"

"Agent Mackenzie told me you went jogging by yourself today. We can't protect you if you don't want to be protected."

Sam let out a half-laugh. "What? Am I in trouble because I didn't do what I was told? This is my _life_, Bailey! I'd like to live it. I want Chloe to be able to go to a birthday party without clearing it with you. I just want . . . normalcy."

Bailey sat down, keeping a small distance between him and Sam. "And you can have all that . . . once we catch Jack."

"Do you honestly think that's ever going to happen? How many years has it been now? We're still no closer to catching him than when you first showed me his file."

"I'm going to let you think about it. I'll call you tomorrow." He let himself out, passing Angel on her way in.

Sam went straight to her bedroom, lying awake for a long time before sleep finally claimed her.

* * *

Sam was idly paging through a magazine when the phone rang. She leaned across the couch and answered. It was Bailey. Sam's fingers tightened around the receiver as she braced herself for another argument.

"How are you feeling?" His tone was gentle and she bit back her guilt.

"I'm okay."

"Sam—"

"I watched a movie once, where this little girl prays for God to turn her into a bird so she can fly away. Years later, she finds herself standing on the edge of a balcony, looking out into the night. Have you ever been there, Bailey? Standing on a knife's edge, so tempted to just fall forward so that it can all be over?"

There was silence from Bailey's side so Sam continued; knowing her words would hurt him and not caring. "When Tom died, I didn't think I'd be able to go on. And every time Jack kills someone, I wonder if he'd carry on if I was dead."

"Sam, you're not thinking of—"

She looked at a photo of Chloe, taken a few weeks ago. She had one arm around Denzel's neck and her head was thrown back, her mouth open in laughter. Sam's smile was bitter. "No. But I'm dying inside anyway. This job is taking so much from me, Bailey. I . . . I don't know. I want to remember what it feels like to . . . to feel, I think."

"I had no idea you felt that way."

Neither did I. And all it took was one night with Jack to open my eyes.

"Why don't you talk to Melinda? Maybe she can help you work through this."

"Bailey, no. Please, I don't want to talk. I'm tired of talking."

"Sam—"

She heard voices and looked up to see Angel and Chloe step off the elevator. "I've got to go."

She hung up and stood to greet Chloe. Quitting was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

* * *

Angel leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed, and looked at Sam who was curled up on the couch. Since her lunch with Chloe two days ago, Sam had wandered around the house in her pajamas, doing nothing. She didn't read, she didn't watch TV, she didn't spend any time in the darkroom anymore, and even when she was with Chloe, Angel could see her mind was miles away. She looked . . . lost. There had been a few times in the past couple of years when Angel had been seriously worried by her friend's state of mind. This was by far the worst. When Angel had woken up to find Sam still sitting where she'd left her the night before, she'd decided it was time to do something.

"Sam, you need to get out of the house."

Sam looked up when Angel spoke. "I've decided to become a hermit."

Angel didn't smile. "I thought you didn't want to be a prisoner."

"Angel—"

"You don't go out anymore, not even to pick Chloe up from school. That spot on the couch is developing a permanent indentation."

Sam bit her lip and looked away. Angel wondered if she'd gone too far. She crossed the room and sat down next to Sam.

"Hey, if you want to be a hermit, I guess it's okay with me."

Sam smiled and leaned against her, her head on Angel's shoulder. "Sorry. I know I've been difficult since . . . well, yeah."

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry about Joel too. He seemed like a great guy."

Angel sighed. How many deaths did Sam have to carry on her conscience? When would it all end?

* * *

Sam pushed the cart up and down the aisles. She would have preferred to stay at home, but Angel and Chloe had been begging her to get out the house for days. Just to get them off her back, she'd agreed to go grocery shopping with them. Angel and Chloe were doing most of the work; Angel read from the list and Chloe took the items from the shelves. Sam narrowly missed running down a toddler with the cart, and she wondered why everyone in Atlanta had decided to come shopping at this supermarket. She stopped in the frozen food section, letting Angel look for vegetables. Someone was ringing a bell to announce some special or other and a kid a few feet behind her was throwing a tantrum because he wanted Oreos. For the first time in a long time, Sam wanted a cigarette.

"Mrs. Waters?"

Sam nodded, looking curiously at the woman standing in front of her. Although she looked vaguely familiar, Sam couldn't place her.

"Mary Parker. Chloe's teacher. We met at parents' evening—"

"Oh yes!" Sam smiled. "Sorry. I don't know where my mind is these days."

"I've been meaning to call you. We're having a careers day in two week's time and I was wondering if you'd be interested in hosting a table, or speaking, or something." At Sam's look of misgiving, she rushed on. "Chloe mentioned that you spoke to her class a couple of years ago."

Sam glanced over at Chloe, who held up a tub of ice cream with a pleading look in her eyes. There was that damn bell again, and was that kid still screaming? Was this her life? Even in the frozen food section, Sam felt hot. Maybe she was coming down with something. Maybe she was losing her mind. She needed to get out of there . . . why was it so stuffy?

Mrs. Parker was still looking expectantly at her. Sam nodded.

"It shouldn't be a problem."

Finally – _finally – _they were in the checkout queue. Sam excused herself with a headache and went to wait in the car.

* * *

Sam managed to successfully avoid Bailey for three days before he ambushed her again at the firehouse. She'd gone jogging again, and when she returned he was waiting outside.

"Sam."

"Hi."

"I thought about what you said. Take as much time as you need before coming back."

"You don't get it. I'm _not_ coming back."

She pushed past him, closing the elevator doors before he could follow her.

"It's over, Bailey. I'm out."

Angel was on the phone when Sam came in. She beckoned her over.

"Hang on, she just came in now."

"Who is it?" Sam asked.

"Don't know. A guy." Angel winked.

Sam took the phone, frowning. "Hello?"

"Samantha."

Sam almost dropped the phone in shock. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Jack?"

"I've missed you."

Sam looked around to see where Angel was, hoping that she was out of earshot. "Why are you calling?"

"I want to see you, Samantha."

Sam wiped the perspiration from her brow. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to put the phone down, to call for whichever agent was on duty today.

"When?" she asked.

* * *

Sam sat at the same table she and Chloe had occupied earlier that week. When Jack had mentioned the little restaurant, she'd known he'd been watching her. Strangely, the knowledge didn't disturb her as much as it would have in the past. She sipped water slowly, waiting. She'd arrived early.

"Samantha, it's so good to see you again." He appeared behind her suddenly, bearing a single red rose.

She smiled, unwilling to admit that she felt the same. "Hi."

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on her. Here she was, meeting her stalker because he'd wanted to see her. She was on a date with a serial killer. So much for normalcy.

"Have you thought about what I said?"

Sam nodded. "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I want you to help me disappear."

TBC


	4. four

Angel hadn't been able to concentrate on anything since Sam had been found. Even though she was supposed to be working on a piece for a show, she'd spent most of the day staring into space. Something was different about Sam and she couldn't figure out what it was. Jack had kidnapped her once before, using a spider's venom and then framing her for murder, but she hadn't been so withdrawn that time. Now, she just wanted to quit the FBI and she ditched her guards whenever she went out. What had Jack done to her?

Angel left the studio early, knowing that she wasn't going to get any more work done. Maybe she could convince Sam to go away for a couple of days with Chloe. When she got home, she wasn't surprised to find Sam sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"Hi."

Sam looked almost sad. "Hi, Angel."

Angel crossed the living room to sit next to Sam. "What are you watching?"

"Nothing. Just flicking through to see if anything interesting is on."

Angel nodded. When, she wondered, had she forgotten how to talk to her best friend?

Sam took Angel's hand, threading her fingers through Angel's as if they were little girls again. "You're too good to me. You never should have had to live like this."

"What kind of friend would I be if I'd let you go through this alone?"

"You should be married, with kids of your own."

"Sam, I never wanted that, remember? I was the only girl in our class who didn't dream of weddings and children."

"Still, you'd have made a great mother." Sam leaned against her friend, her head on Angel's shoulder. "I'm sorry if I ever let you think that I take you for granted."

"It's not your fault that Jack's in your life. You deserve better."

Sam made a funny sound in the back of her throat. Angel didn't know what it meant but she suddenly felt sad.

"I love you, Angel. Whatever happens, don't ever forget that."

"Sam?"

"I'm going to go pick up Chloe from school. I'll see you." Sam paused at the edge of the room and looked back at Angel. She smiled, and then she was gone. Angel looked at the TV, at what Sam had been watching. Wile E. Coyote chased the Road Runner around the desert, never coming close to catching him.

Angel frowned when she realized that it was a tape. Sam had lied about flicking through channels. She smiled faintly; maybe Sam was just embarrassed that she'd been caught watching cartoons.

When the time for Sam to return had passed, Angel started to panic. She rushed downstairs to see if Sam had taken a guard with her, her heart sinking when she saw both agents at their posts. They waved cheerfully at her, oblivious to her worries. She called Bailey.

"Chloe's teacher confirms that Sam picked her up from school." Bailey paced up and down the command center. "After that, they just disappeared."

"Do you think Jack's got her again?" Angel was uncomfortable in Sam's workspace, just as Sam would be in hers. She sat stiffly in one of the black chairs, staring helplessly up at Bailey.

"I really hope not. Did Sam say anything about wanting to get away for a while?"

Angel shrugged. "I know she wanted to leave the FBI, but she never mentioned anything like this. I was actually going to suggest that the three of us go stay at the farm for a couple of days."

"I need you to think hard: has anything about her behavior been strange?"

"_Everything_ has been strange. Since she came home, she hasn't been herself. I mean, first wanting to leave, and then going jogging without a guard. I got home today and she was watching cartoons and we had a really odd conversation—"

"Which cartoon?"

"Uh, Road Runner."

Bailey pulled out a chair and sat next to Angel. "Road Runner? That's the one where the coyote chases him and always ends up hurting himself, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he never catches him?"

"Umm . . . I don't think so. Why? Is it important?"

"I don't know. What did you two talk about?"

"Friendship. What our lives should have been like. I mentioned Jack and she said she loved me."

"Maybe she knew she wouldn't be coming home."

Angel turned to stare at the woman who had just spoken. She had red hair and carried a green mug. Something about her reminded Angel of Sam.

"Who are you?"

Bailey stood up. "Uh, Angel, this is Rachel Burke. She's been filling in for Sam."

"You're a profiler too?"

Rachel nodded.

"Are you any good?"

"She is." Bailey ended the discussion and excused himself to answer the phone.

Angel studied the other woman carefully. "What did you mean 'maybe she knew'?"

Rachel took a sip of coffee before answering. "Jack had her but he let her go. Why? I think killing her date was more than just male possessiveness. He was trying to show her something, but what? Maybe he gave her a choice and now she's chosen to disappear before she has to answer to him."

"No. If she was going to leave she would have said goodbye to me."

"Maybe she did. Maybe the cartoon was her way of telling us all not to look for her."

"No." Angel refused to believe that. She stood up angrily. "I'm going home. Tell Bailey to call me when he finds something."

Rachel watched her leave, then chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully. She was rarely wrong and sincerely believed that Sam had vanished by choice and that she had no intention of returning. Convincing Sam's friends of that was the hard part.

Bailey re-entered the room, his expression somber. "Highway patrol found Sam's car abandoned just off the I-20. No trace of her or Chloe."

Rachel just nodded.

Chloe sat very quietly on the bed. The motel room seemed too small for three people. She was cross-legged and stared at the pattern of the bedspread. When she'd asked her mother why they hadn't gone home, she'd been told that it would be explained later. She hadn't asked who the strange man with them was. Now, her mother was showering and she was alone with the man. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

She shook her head, twisting her hands in her lap.

"My name's Jack."

Chloe looked up and stared at him. She'd heard of him before. The adults always mentioned him in hushed tones whenever she was around and she knew he'd had something to do with her father's death. She licked her lips nervously and sat very, very still.

For his part, Jack was at a loss. He was intrigued by this foreign creature – as he was by all children. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never killed a child.

TBC


	5. five

The motel room was empty when Sam came out of the bathroom. She wrapped her hair in a towel and sat on the bed to watch TV. The news was filled with reports of her disappearance so she quickly changed channels. Angel would be worried sick by now, she thought idly. Maybe she should have left her a letter or something. Chloe's grandparents would also be worried. She wondered if her father even knew she was missing, then decided he probably didn't.

There was a noise at the door and Sam rolled onto her side. Jack walked in, carrying a MacDonalds bag. He smiled when he saw her, then came to sit next to her. He dug in the bag and pulled out a burger. Sam wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry. Nothing else was open this late."

"It's okay." Sam smiled. "Where's Chloe?"

"She's in the car. Said she wanted to listen to music for a while."

"Has she eaten something?"

Jack nodded. He leaned down and kissed Sam's cheek. She was taken aback, despite what had already happened between them, she wasn't sure she was ready for this kind of intimacy.

"Uhh . . ."

"Something wrong?" Jack asked.

"Food first." Sam held up the burger and took a bite in an attempt to forestall the inevitable. She was relieved when Jack moved away. By the time she finished her burger, he was asleep. She checked her watch and realized Chloe still hadn't come in. Casting a glance at Jack, she slipped off the bed and quietly went outside.

Chloe was fast asleep in the front passenger seat of Jack's car. Sam turned off the radio then gently shook Chloe awake. The child mumbled and shifted in the seat. Sam tugged gently at Chloe's arm.

"Come on, Chlo'. You're too big for me to carry."

Jack had woken up as soon as Sam had left. He'd followed her outside and now gently pushed her aside. He lifted Chloe in his arms and carried her inside, smiling when she burrowed her face in his neck. Sam pulled back the covers on the bed. When Jack let go of Chloe, he pulled off her shoes and covered her with the blanket. He tenderly brushed her hair away from her face then looked at Sam. She looked away; had she really just let a murderer put her daughter to bed? She felt his touch on her arm, his lips against her hair, and she ducked away from him.

"Samantha—"

"I'm exhausted, Jack. It's been a long day."

"Of course." If he was hurt by her rejection, she couldn't tell.

"I'll see you in the morning." She smiled weakly. Jack just nodded before walking to the adjoining room. Sam climbed into bed next to Chloe and lay staring up at the ceiling, but sleep didn't come.

* * *

The house seemed too empty without Sam and Chloe. Angel sat in the kitchen, paging through a photo album, and got up when she heard the elevator. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Uh, hello." It was Rachel. "I hope you don't mind me coming around."

Angel shook her head. "Have a seat."

"Thanks. I was hoping I could talk to you about Dr. Waters."

"Have you heard anything?"

"No." Rachel opened a file and scanned the page. "I'm trying to build a profile. Bailey mentioned that she was planning to leave the VCTF. Do you know how serious she was?"

"Every now and then Sam would talk about quitting. I don't blame her. She always pushed herself so hard." Angel caught herself talking about Sam in the past tense and shrugged. "I don't know how serious she was."

"Would she have left on purpose?"

Angel stared incredulously at the other woman. "Sam would never just leave while Jack was still out there."

Rachel glanced at her notes again and nodded at something she read. "And Jack actually had her a couple of days ago?"

"He killed her date. Why are you asking me things you already know?"

Rachel met Angel's gaze and smiled. Angel looked away, her eye falling on a photograph of Sam and Chloe. She looked back at Rachel.

"When she was found, how would you describe her state of mind?"

"She was distant. Withdrawn."

"She seemed unhappy?"

"Wouldn't you be, if you'd just been kidnapped?" Angel realized she was being overly defensive and consciously lowered her voice. "I know Sam. She wouldn't just leave without a word."

"Maybe she's not the Sam you know anymore. Did she speak about what happened that night?"

"No." She drew the word out and wondered what Rachel was keeping from her.

"I see. Well, thank you." Rachel closed her file and stood.

"Wait. What happened?"

Rachel hesitated before answering. "No one knows."

"But you suspect something."

She lowered her eyes. "We'll let you know what we find out."

Angel sank back down onto the couch, not bothering to walk Rachel out. Feeling a sudden chill, she shivered. Rachel didn't have to tell her what had happened for her to know that it wasn't good.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe the Sam who had come back wasn't the Sam she knew.

TBC


	6. six

Sam stood in the center of the rose garden and bent her head to a fragrant red bloom. She plucked a single petal and rubbed it against her cheek. She felt rather than heard Jack come up behind her and turned to smile at him.

"They're lovely."

Jack reached out to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. "You're lovely."

Her smile widened and she was sure she was blushing. Part of her felt like a schoolgirl with a crush and another part of her wondered exactly what the hell she was doing here. They'd left the motel and come straight to Jack's mother's house. Sam had been apprehensive about meeting Miriam, but she'd been friendly and welcoming, if a little eccentric. Overwhelmed by the events of the past week, Sam had escaped to the rose garden for a moment's peace.

"She likes you," Jack said.

Sam recalled Tom saying something similar about his parents – she now knew it hadn't been true. Instead of saying anything to Jack, she stepped into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. He was warm against her. She drew in a breath; he smelled of tobacco and something else . . . aftershave. Slowly, surely, she raised her head. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closed the distance between their mouths.

How fitting, she thought, _that we should kiss in a rose garden._

The kiss deepened, grew hotter . . . more urgent. She wound her fingers in his hair and pressed herself closer to him.

"Mom?"

She tore her mouth from his, her breathing heavy. Raising her fingers to his cheek in a light caress, she smiled.

"Mom?"

"This way, Chlo'." She stepped out of Jack's arms just before Chloe reached them. Flaunting her relationships in front of Chloe was something she'd never done. She couldn't help chuckling; she'd just thought of Jack in terms of a relationship. There was no doubt about it: she had officially lost her mind.

Chloe stopped a few feet short of Sam and didn't look at Jack. The look on her face made Sam's heart skip a beat. Chloe was clearly unhappy.

"Was there something you wanted, Chlo'?"

She shook her head. "I just wanted to know where you were."

"Okay." Sam glanced at Jack. "Lets talk a walk, Chloe."

Side by side, they walked in silence until they came to a large swimming pool. Sam noticed the excitement Chloe couldn't quite hide but didn't comment on it. She sat in one of the wrought iron chairs and watched Chloe bend down to feel the water. A bird sang from one of the trees and Sam raised her face to the sunshine. It was beautiful here.

Chloe stood, shaking droplets of water from her hand. She caught Sam watching her and tilted her head, matching her mother's gaze. In that second, she reminded Sam painfully of Tom.

"Come here a second." Sam gestured to the chair next to her. "Chlo', are you mad at me?"

Chloe stayed at the edge of the pool. "No, Mom. I just want to go home."

Sam sighed. How could she explain something so complicated to a nine-year-old? She wasn't sure she completely understood it herself. "Sweetie, we're not going home. We're going to stay here for a while and then—"

"I miss Angel. I miss my friends. Why can't we just go home?"

"I'm going to find us a new home. One without cameras everywhere. And no guards. Doesn't that sound good?"

"But then we won't be safe."

"Of course we'll be safe. Jack will be with us—" She hadn't known she was going to say that, and knew it was the wrong thing to say even before Chloe turned and ran into the house. She didn't follow her. Before she made things right with Chloe, she needed to sort things out in her own head.

* * *

Sam stood in the door to Chloe's room and watched her daughter sleep. She sighed. Chloe was so young and innocent. She deserved more than a life on the run. This was all so confusing.

Sam jumped in surprise at Jack's touch on her arm then smiled. "You need to stop sneaking up on me."

"Are you coming to bed?"

She looked at Chloe then slipped her arm through Jack's. "Yeah."

When they reached the bedroom, Sam took her time brushing her hair. She could see Jack moving around behind her by looking in the mirror.

This was absurd – so absurd it almost felt normal.

She put the brush down then took a deep breath before turning and walking to Jack. At the foot of the bed, she stopped and slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. Trembling, she unzipped her jeans and slid them down her hips. When she straightened, she saw Jack staring at her and smiled self-consciously.

"You're lovely." He reached out, his hand stopping short of actually touching her. She took his hand and stepped into him. There was something highly erotic about his fully clothed body against her bare skin. She didn't resist when he pulled her down onto the bed.

Each of his kisses branded her as his. She denied him nothing; permitting – craving – every single touch. He rolled her onto her back and raised himself to look at her. She reached up to pull his head down to hers.

This was different to before. This wasn't just fucking. This was . . . this was . . .

Making love?

No, he's a murderer!

But you love him, don't you?

She slipped her hands under his shirt and pushed the material up. She wanted to feel him against her. Ever obliging, he slipped the shirt off and cast it aside. He gently sucked her lower lip as he reached under her back to unclip her bra. She pressed herself closer and fumbled with his belt buckle. He lifted his hips to make it easier for her. A few seconds later, and his pants were on the floor, followed by his boxers.

* * *

Jack rolled over in his sleep and woke up when his outstretched arm touched a cool pillow instead of the warmth he was expecting. He opened his eyes. The spot Samantha had so recently occupied was empty except for a white piece of paper. He turned on the bedside lamp.

I'm sorry, Jack. Forgive me Sam had written in her even hand. The ink was smudged slightly by what Jack assumed were tears. He jumped out of bed and pulled on a robe before heading to Chloe's room.

Her bed was empty.

He hurried downstairs, his gut telling him what he didn't want to know. She couldn't be gone. Not after what had just happened between them.

Johnson had been his family's butler for as long as he could remember and he had always kept odd hours. Jack found him now, reading yesterday's newspaper in the kitchen.

"Where did she go?" he demanded.

Johnson looked up and calmly folded the paper. "She and the child got in a taxi about half an hour ago. She didn't say where she was headed."

Jack sighed. "What taxi?"

Johnson took a slip of folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Jack. "Can I make you some tea?"

Jack shook his head, already on his way to the phone. Half an hour. She couldn't have gone very far. He would find her. He had to find her.

This time, nothing would keep them apart.

TBC


	7. seven

Sam didn't know where she was heading. All she knew was that she needed to be as far away from Jack and Bailey and the FBI as possible. She glanced at Chloe, hiding her sigh. The child hadn't said a word in the three days since they'd left Jack's mother's house. The irony was not lost on Sam; leaving was supposed to be for Chloe's benefit.

Sam rolled down the window of the rental car, letting fresh, cool air wash into the car. This was going to be a long journey. She only hoped that she and Chloe would come out unscathed at the end.

"What do you think of Florida, sweetheart? Do you want to go to the beach?"

Chloe shrugged, apparently indifferent.

Frustrated, Sam pulled over to the side of the road. "Look, Chlo', I'm sorry. Okay? I wish I could undo the last few days – hell, I wish I could undo the last few years – but what's done is done. I know you hated living with all the cameras and having to be scared all the time, and if we go back to Atlanta we have to go back to all of that."

Chloe finally made eye contact with her mother. "I miss Angel. I miss my friends."

"Me too. And I wish we hadn't had to leave them all behind, but this is a new start. If no one can find us, no one can hurt us."

Chloe looked doubtful. "What about Jack?"

"You're the most important person in my life, Chlo'. He's in the past now. It's just you and me from here on in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Chloe leaned across and hugged Sam, bursting into tears. "I missed you so much!"

Those five words convinced Sam she was doing the right thing. She told herself the ache in her heart would fade with time.

Maybe one of these days she would actually start to believe that.

* * *

Bailey turned the postcard over and read the message, though he'd already committed it to memory. Each word broke his heart a little more: _Bailey, I'm sorry. Please let me go. Sam._

He couldn't, of course, and the moment he'd received the postcard, the team had traveled to Jacksonville, Florida. They found no trace of Sam or Chloe. When they returned home, Angel called and said she'd received an identical postcard. She'd cried when Bailey told her the trail had gone cold.

Jacksonville. He couldn't help but wonder if there was any significance in the name. Were Sam and Chloe alone? Was Jack with them?

He dismissed the idea almost immediately. If Jack had Sam, he would have let them know by now. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity to gloat.

* * *

Angel sealed the last of the boxes and stood, stretching out the kinks in her spine. She walked through the firehouse slowly, remembering the good times they'd had, despite it being almost a prison. She thought further back, to life at the farm, before the VCTF, and further still, to life before Jack. She'd been a different person then, and so had Sam. Angel was older now, less naïve, a sadder version of the girl she'd been so many years before.

She wasn't sure how easy it would be to go back to the life she'd used to have.

Denzel pushed his muzzle into her hand, drawing her thoughts back to the present. Angel absently rubbed his head, then picked up his leash and attached it to his collar. She didn't look back as they waited for the elevator.

If Sam ever decided to return, she wouldn't come here. There was nothing to keep Angel here anymore. She stepped into the elevator and closed her eyes as it descended, saying another silent prayer for Sam and Chloe.

* * *

_One month later_

Angel stepped out onto the porch and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Denzel! Denzel, where are you?"

She waited, her eyes searching the farm for her pet. When he didn't come, she called again. "Denzel!"

Shaking her head, she returned into the house. The evening was too chilly to stay out on the porch all night, and she knew Denzel would come back when he was hungry.

From his hiding place in the bushes, Jack lowered his binoculars and looked down at the still form at his feet. Denzel's body had long since grown cold. Jack smiled and turned his attention back to the house; if anyone knew where his Samantha was, it would be Angel.

He waited for the sun to set completely before he dared to approach. He circled the house once, glancing in each window. Angel was curled up on a couch in the living room, reading a book. Jack broke in through the kitchen, slipping into the house as quietly as if he were a phantom. He was amused that Angel hadn't enabled the security system; she'd obviously thought she was safe here.

The floor creaked under his feet and he froze.

"Denzel!" Angel called. "Is that you?"

Jack heard Angel's approach and quickly stepped out of sight. When she had her back to him, he stepped out of the shadows and slid an arm around her waist, holding a knife to her throat with his other.

"Hello, Angel."

"Oh, God."

Jack chuckled. "Not quite."

"What do you want?"

He was impressed at how calm she seemed to be. Then he felt her shivering against him and he tightened his hold on her. "I want Samantha."

"I don't know where she is."

He spun her around and pressed her against the wall. He wanted to see her face when she spoke to him. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"You're her best friend."

A tear trickled down Angel's cheek. "She didn't tell me everything."

Another tear. Jack smiled. He liked seeing her cry. He bent his head to her ear and said, softly, "She ran away with me, you know."

Angel whimpered.

"She let me fuck her. Begged me not to stop."

"Liar."

Jack removed his glove with his teeth, then touched his hand to Angel's cheek. Her tears moistened his fingertips. Angel closed her eyes. Jack brought his fingers to his lips, wanting to taste her tears.

"I want her back, Angel. Where did she go?"

"I don't know."

Jack grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted it, trying not to take too much pleasure in her grimace. The night was only beginning. "What have I told you about lying to me?"

"I'm. Not. Lying."

She was telling the truth. Few people lied to him, especially at knifepoint. He sighed.

"You're not going to find her if she doesn't want to be found."

Jack smiled indulgently, as if she were a child who had said something amusing. "I found her before. She can't hide from me."

"You're not as smart as you think you are."

"So why has nobody caught me yet?" Jack was bored now. Angel had nothing useful to tell him. He pulled her head back and forced her to look at him. "I'm impressed. You haven't begged me not to kill you."

Angel pressed her lips together but she couldn't hide the fear in her eyes.

"I like you, Angel." Was that relief he saw? How sweet, he thought. "I'll make it quick."

He saw brief confusion flit across her face, then understanding as he raised the knife. In a smooth, practiced motion, he drew the blade across her throat, severing both her jugular and carotid. She blinked a few times and gasped uselessly. Jack stepped away from her and wiped the spray of blood from his face. He turned his back on her as she slid to the floor and cleaned himself at the sink.

He dropped a rose next to Angel's body before beginning his search of the house. If there was anything that could help him find Samantha, he would find it.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I killed Angel. Don't hate me. ::ducks flying objects:: TBC, soon, I promise. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I hope this chapter was worth the wait._


End file.
